


Nothing gets past Olaf

by Cherolain



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherolain/pseuds/Cherolain
Summary: Nothing gets past Olaf, and she knows it, damaging herself for having responded with not too much conviction.“ Oh, come on, don’t kid yourself, Violet.”The hand gets under the table, a firm, cold grip on the knee.
Relationships: Violet Baudelaire/Count Olaf
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Nothing gets past Olaf

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Olaf non sfugge nulla](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015114) by [Cherolain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherolain/pseuds/Cherolain). 



> This story is set after “The end”, in an imaginary future where Olaf survives.  
> This is my English translation of my work “ A Olaf non sfugge nulla”

NOTHING GETS PAST OLAF 

The rain beats on the windows, incessantly.

Violet detests that annoying and lashing ticking sound, it penetrates into her bones.

She begins to drum her little fingers on the oak surface of the table, observing dark waves rippling in the chipped cup.

When the door of the tea room opens creaking she recognizes him immediately by the slow brazen steps.

“ Who knows what they would say to see you in such a dumb, girl.”

His black eyes have maintained the ravenous and penetrating glow.

“ I will never know.”

Violet’s voice is toneless, dry, but betrayed by the contraction of the fingers.

Nothing gets past Olaf, and she knows it, but she tries to ignore the sudden curvature painted on his lips

The Count, after ordering a filthy cup of tea, starts to look around snapping is tongue with veiled disappointment.

“ Where is that little critter?”

Violet’s eyebrows frown, a grimace of pain deforms her delicate features.

“ Sunny is dead.”

Olaf doesn’t seem surprised and he just pours three lumps of sugar into the dark liquid.

“ Was it an accident, just like the bookworm?”

“ An escape plan, and a fire, which failed.”

The word fire causes the Count’s gaze to ripple, two forbid, flickering headlights scrutinise her.

He brings the torso forward, his rapacious fingers dangerously close to Violet’s.

“ I’d like to tell you I’m sorry” he wispers “ But your father always told me that I’m a bad liar.”

The Baudelaire doesn’t lower her gaze and she retracts her hands, a stab of hatred between her eyes.

“ Esmè also told me, what a pity that she can’t tell you more, Olaf.”

The Count chuckles putting two more lumps of sugar in the cup.

“ As if I ever cared about her, orphan. However, I admit that I was quite impressed with how you planned her death, it is not for everyone to throw a woman from a running train.”

Violet looks away, her big brown eyes lost in the flames of the fireplace.

“ She took Sunny with her, grabbed her ankle before that she fell. I couldn’t save her.”

He drinks loudly from the cup.

“ Esmè has always hated you, girl, I don’t think she detested anyone more than you.”

“ For my heritage? She would have linked to squander probably everything in clothes.”

Nothing gets past Olaf, and she knows it, damaging herself for having responded with not too much conviction.

“ Oh, come on, don’t kid yourself, Violet.”

The hand gets under the table, a firm, cold grip on the knee. 

Violet jerks the chair away, the hair ribbon tied around her wrist.

Olaf grins as he promptly grabs her by the arm, squeezing her thin violently.

“ Now you sit in this fucking chair without making scripts, orphan. These behaviours are not suitable for young ladies, am I right?”

Nothing gets past Olaf, and she knows it, so she tries to stifle the tears caused by that merciless touch.

“ I start to tire of chasing you up and down the country, it was more funny when the others two brats were there, but now we are only it’s just the two of us as it should have been from the beginning.

“ You are despicable.”

“ Come on girl, be a little kinder” he says slyly, patting her on the cheek “ I’ve always been a good guardian, we had so much fun together.”

Violet bites her lips, until she feels the metallic taste of blood.

“ I didn’t want to” she only manages to murmur, faintly. “ I didn’t want and you forced but know you can’t blackmail me anymore. Klaus and Sunny are dead, Olaf.”

Nothing gets past Olaf, and she knows it, she knows it perfectly as she sees him starts to untie the tape from her wrist with his other hand.

“ It may be that you have not always enjoyed my company but, come on Violet, I’ve always tried to be a gentleman with you.”

The Count pauses, his gaze shines dangerously as he approaches his lips to the era of the Baudelaire.

“ And I firmly believe that my manners have been repaid” he whispers “ It seems to me that you desperately looked for me, sleeping with me as in the old days, after that Klaus slipped into the ravine.”

“ Don’t you dare say my brother’s name.”

Thats not what she really wanted to say, but it was undoubtedly the right thing to say.

Olaf slides the tapes on the floor, squeezing it left foot, repeatedly.

The grip loosens, the tea is cold.

“ Let’s go home, Violet.”

It is a simple affirmation, pronounced calmly, whose impatience exudes from the hand of the man that begins to slowly caress her.

Nothing gets past Olaf, and she knows it when she gets up from the chair to follow him, driving back the tears.

A mellifluous smile rises victoriously over the sharp edges of the Count.

End of the race.


End file.
